


Raising Hell At The Seventh Veil

by QueenOfNewOrleans22



Category: Mötley Crüe, W.A.S.P. (Band)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, No Smut, Protectiveness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-18 20:42:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29124369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenOfNewOrleans22/pseuds/QueenOfNewOrleans22
Summary: Mick meets a friend of Nikki's, and perhaps does a bit more.(Sharply, the man's head turned. Those black eyes lit up, and it was an unpleasant look, albeit one that wasn't entirely cruel. "I've been looking forward to meeting you, Mick." The man said Mick's name like it was poison that needed to be spat out before he was seized with death.)
Relationships: Blackie Lawless/Nikki Sixx, Blackie Lawless/Nikki Sixx/Mick Mars, Mick Mars/Nikki Sixx
Comments: 20
Kudos: 11





	Raising Hell At The Seventh Veil

Mick wasn't a dumb man, which wasn't to say that he wasn't a little slow on the uptake sometimes. Like all people, Mick had moments where he didn't realize that small things were, in fact, really fucking big things, and only saw what was happening when the fireworks exploded in his face. Mick always hated it when that happened, but he was useless to fix it, a fact that became increasingly clear when he walked into the recording room early in the morning, water in hand, ready to either have a session with his guitar or die trying. 

It was early enough that Mick had previously rested easy under the assumption that everybody else was asleep. Tommy wasn't reliable to wake up before noon on the usual day, and Vince was usually entertaining some groupie, so Mick had decided that he was safe to proceed with his alone time. Nikki, who had been a nervous wreck for the last two days, had been suspiciously absent from Mick's bed and his own. 

Despite his rather silent concern about Nikki's recent change from cool and collected to a nervous teenager, Mick didn't bother himself with the worry as he walked into the recording room, and then promptly stopped so suddenly that it was like a jolt of pain had stilled his movement, but, instead, Mick had found himself shocked into stopping. 

There was an unfamiliar man sitting on the couch. He was dark-haired, and his eyes were so brown that they almost seemed black. In a way, the man almost seemed like a specter. He looked much taller than Mick, even before his spine started to twist, could have ever hoped to be, even while sitting down. 

Even worse than that fact, Nikki, who was possibly the most intensely dignified person who Mick had ever met, was sitting on the arm of the chair, talking in sweet, low tones with the stranger like two teenagers in the hall. Nikki's hair was all mussed and his makeup was smeared all over his pale skin. Mick thought that he looked even paler than normal, and knew that Nikki had put powder on his face like a fucking girl who was trying to impress her crush. 

If Mick had been a smarter man, he would've turned around and just left the room. He should've, but, instead, he continued to stand there like a dope, unsure of what he was supposed to do. He didn't recognize the man on the couch, and don't like that Nikki was just hanging all over him, having apparently abandoned all dignity in favor of pleasing whoever this guy was. 

Nikki's green eyes flicked up. His painted lips twisted in a sardonic, yet sweet little smile. He tossed his head back, and his inky black hair fell away from his face, exposing his casual expression. "Hey, Mick." Nikki said in a deceptively light tone, swinging his feet as they hovered above the ground. "I didn't think we'd see you this early." He lifted one of his shoulders in a shrug. 

Sharply, the man's head turned. Those black eyes lit up, and it was an unpleasant look, albeit one that wasn't entirely cruel. "I've been looking forward to meeting you, _Mick."_ The man said Mick's name like it was poison that needed to be spat out before he was seized with death. 

Caught by an inability to speak, Mick only stared. He felt at a loss, struck dumb by the sight. He pressed his lips together thinly, and, behind his sunglasses, his eyes had narrowed significantly. "Who are you?" Mick finally asked, deciding that he needed to figure that out, first and foremost. 

"You didn't tell him 'bout me, Nik?" The man said, as if surprised. He looked up toward Nikki, who shrugged. The man grinned, and Mick noticed that he had sharp teeth. He felt a shiver crawl up his spine and didn't know why. "I'm a very old friend." The man said. 

"That's nice." Mick said, his voice strained and thin. "I still don't know who the fuck you are." He was tempted to just turn around and walk away, but he didn't like the idea of just leaving Nikki alone. Granted, Nikki seemed quite fond of the man, and he wasn't usually hanging all over people who posed danger, but he wasn't exactly known for his self-preservation skills. 

"Blackie Lawless." The man said, tilting his head back rather proudly. He was smirking, as if he knew what was going through Mick's head. "Nikki and I were in a band together before he went and left." Blackie shook his head. "But, bygones should be bygones." He motioned in the air with a dismissive gesture. 

Mick's upper lip twisted. "Well, why are you here, then?" He'd heard the name, of course. Blackie wasn't exactly underground, after all, but his and Mick's paths had never crossed. But Mick had heard the rumors, after all. He wasn't deaf. He had heard how people talked about Blackie like he was a revered legend, dangerous and mythical. 

Up until that moment, Mick had been very, very glad that he and Blackie had never met. In truth, Blackie had never given Mick a real reason to dislike him, but Mick just didn't trust him. Not with those black eyes. Not with that evil little smirk. A small part of Mick dismissed those reasons a ridiculous, but he hadn't gotten this far in life without taking certain precautions. 

"Well, I missed Nikki." Blackie said it like it was supposed to be obvious. He waved his hand toward Nikki, who was looking somewhere else at something that couldn't be seen. Blackie smiled, and this time, his facial features seemed to melt into something a little less bitter and more genuine. "Is that not allowed?" 

Nikki winced. "Shut up, Blackie." He said. "He's just visiting, Mick." Nikki looked up at Mick and widened his eyes slightly, as if asking for Mick to not say anything that would cause an argument. 

Had it been any other time, or, perhaps, just with anybody else, Mick might've just bit his tongue, but he didn't feel right, just rolling over and not saying anything. "Is that why you've been such a nervous wreck?" He asked, but it wasn't a question, not really. Mick was very sure of himself, and the knowledge rested uneasily on his shoulders. 

Like a kid who had just walked into a surprise birthday party, Blackie's whole face lit up. He looked at Mick, and then twisted to look at Nikki, his lips spread into a wide, happy grin. "You were _nervous,_ Nik?" Blackie said, and he laughed. "You were _nervous_ about _me?"_ He sounded both incredulous and incredibly pleased. 

By comparison, Nikki looked like he'd just gotten bad news. "Fuck you, asshole." 

Blackie tossed his head back and laughed, long and loud. He laughed until he should've been out of breath but then he laughed some more, one of his hands pressed against his heart, grinning amusedly. "Oh, Nik." Blackie said. "I thought we went over your little nervous act." He reached up and rested his hand on one of Nikki's knees, squeezing it. 

A sudden bolt of protective instinct went through Mick's chest, and he squashed it down. He didn't like it when Mick touched Nikki. It gave Mick strange, weird feelings. "I'm gonna go, then." He said, suddenly not wanting to practice. "You two...have fun, I guess." Mick backed away, and then he hurriedly walked down the hall. He wasn't actually all that fast, though, and before Mick could get more than five feet, there was a hand on his shoulder. 

For a minute, Mick thought that it was Blackie's hand, and he prepared to elbow him, although he doubted that his bony elbow would do much damage, but then he felt familiar slender fingers, and Mick stopped himself. Nikki had cold hands, and when his fingers traveled upwards toward Mick's neck, he had to resist the urge to shiver. 

"Sorry." Nikki said. He looked at Mick like a kicked cat, his lips down turned into a deep frown. "I couldn't tell you. I'm sorry." Nikki truly had no idea what sort of influence he had on Mick, did he? And for that, Mick was forever grateful, because he was already risking his dignity for this strange relationship that they had going on. 

"I don't like him." Mick saw no reason to lie, but his voice came out much harsher than he'd intended. He looked at Nikki's face and only saw blank knowledge. "I don't like him. I don't like _you_ being around him." Mick wondered if he should've just kept his mouth shut. It was always easier to just pretend that everything was alright. But he knew that Nikki would just see through his lies. 

"That's okay." Nikki tilted his head. He had a mark on his neck, half hidden by the collar of his jacket. Mick reached up and grabbed Nikki by his shoulder, his grip tight but not so that Nikki would begin to feel as if he were trapped. 

Mick frowned. "You two are together?" He said, and his tone was halfway between incredulous and judgemental. It wasn't really a question, but more so of a confirmation. Mick suddenly felt very cold, and he wondered if Blackie was still in the recording room, or if he'd gotten up and left. 

"You said that we weren't exclusive." Nikki sounded indignant. "And we rarely see each other anyways." He pulled the collar of his jacket up higher until it concealed the mark, perhaps out of embarrassment. 

"I didn't say that you _couldn't_ see people, and I didn't say that you couldn't see _him_." Mick said, practically grounding the words from his teeth. "I just don't trust him, and I think you should watch yourself when he's around." He rubbed the side of Nikki's face with his thumb. 

Nikki stared. "Will you be around later?" He asked. 

Judging by Nikki's tone, he didn't believe that Mick would be around, and, for a moment, Mick considered saying that he would be going out later, even though he fully planned on doing the opposite, but Nikki's eyes were so damn wide and there was no lie that Mick could say that would work in that moment. 

"Yeah." Mick said. "I'll be around." He stroked his finger over the edge of Nikki's cheekbone, and tried to force his anxiety to dissipate and disappear. 

But it didn't, because, deep down, Mick knew that something was going to happen. Maybe it would be innocuous, or maybe he would find himself deep in the land of terrible sitiations. Point was - Blackie was dangerous, maybe physically and maybe mentally, and Mick didn't trust that bastard one bit. 

As the day progressed, Mick tried to tell himself that it was nothing, that Blackie was big and he looked mean, but that he was harmless. Mick stayed in his room like a hermit and told himself that Nikki was fine, just engaging in whatever the hell those two did. But Mick wasn't convinced. He considered seeking out Vince or Tommy, but ultimately decided against it. 

Mick lay on his bed, having abandoned whatever he'd been doing previously, his mind too full to do anything else. He remembered the mark on Nikki's neck, and felt another surge of protective instinct course through his veins. And then he remembered Blackie, and how he'd touched Nikki. Mick wondered what they were doing, if they were just hanging out or if they were fucking somewhere. 

The thought sent sparks through Mick's body, and he clenched his teeth as he envisioned Nikki, pale and naked, and Blackie...' _God, Mars!'_ Mick resisted the urge to bash his head against the wall to rid his mind of the images that presented themselves without comment. Mick could handle being attracted to Nikki, hell, half of the male population was attracted to him, and even more of the female population...but _Blackie?_ Jesus Christ, Mick couldn't deal with that shit. 

A small part of Mick was wondering why Nikki had asked if he would be around later. Would Blackie be leaving? Mick hoped so, but his gut said otherwise. He wondered if Nikki wanted to talk to him about something. Mick sighed, and slowly stood up, a project that took much longer than it should've. He needed to use the bathroom, although doing such would likely end with him crossing paths with, well, somebody. 

But, as Mick opened his door, he found the hallway empty and dark. He paused with a frown on his face, and looked down at his watch, only then realizing how long he'd been holed up in his room. Hours had passed, and Vince and Tommy had, for some reason, left him alone while he had a midlife crisis. Mick regretted having wasted the day away, but he hardly dared wander back into the recording room and risk having to see Blackie and Nikki together again. 

One again, Blackie's image entered Mick's mind, but he shoved it away. He didn't want to imagine Blackie _naked,_ and he especially didn't want to think about a naked Blackie with a naked Nikki. ' _God, my life sucks.'_ Mick walked into the kitchen, not really hungry but needing to do something to occupy himself. 

As he rooted through the cupboards like a racoon, Mick heard something behind him. Footsteps, heavy and certain and steady. Mick's first, initial thought was that it was Tommy, but then his mind flashed to Blackie and he suddenly was sure that it was Blackie, that he hadn't left and that he was coming. Mick's heart rate shot up and he felt a bolt of pain go up his spine as he lashed out backwards and hit a hard stomach. 

Mick was pretty sure that he'd hurt himself more than he had hurt Blackie, but instead of the expected retaliation, there was only a sharp, guttural laugh as Mick turned around and stared up at Blackie's harsh face. He looked like he'd just been through a rigorous exercise, the implications of which Mick did not care to think about. Blackie's hair was messy, and he was absent of a shirt, or shoes, or pretty much of anything, except for a pair of leather pants. 

"Well." Blackie snickered, his dark eyes alight. "I would've settled for a simple 'Hey, there, Blackie' or an 'how are you, Blackie?', you didn't have to hit me." He raised his eyebrows and stared down at Mick, looking deeply, increasingly amused. 

"What do you want?" Mick asked, although he wasn't entirely sure if he wanted an actual answer. He suddenly wondered if he should've stayed with Nikki, and he didn't want that answer, either. 

Blackie tilted his head, a mild look on his face. "You and Nikki have somethin' going on, don't you?" He said, because it didn't sound like a question. Blackie crossed his arms, and he smirked. "You two doing a little horizontal mambo behind the scenes?" Blackie brushed his hair away from his face. 

"There's no use lying, is there?" Mick replied wearily. 

"No, I guess not." Blackie said. "Come with me." He abruptly turned around and started to walk away, so certain of where he was going despite having never been in the house in the first place. 

No, Mick did not want to go in there. He didn't want to move in the first place, because moving would mean thinking, and thinking would mean that Mick would have to worry about the shock that'd coursed through his body when Blackie had touched him.

The last time Mick had felt that way when another man had touched him was earlier that day, when Nikki's finger, so cold, had touched his shoulder. Mick loathed the implications of that realization. He really, really was too old for this sort of midlife crisis. "I don't think so, Blackie." Mick said. 

"Oh?" Blackie turned around, slowly, surely, like he was savouring the moment with that same smirk on his face. "You don't wanna come with me?" He said. 

Mick sighed. "No, Blackie. I don't want to come with you. I just want to go back into my room and sleep." He didn't feel hungry now, not in the slightest. In fact, he felt quite...different, and Mick didn't like it, because he wasn't going to go into that room and just sleep. 

"You don't wanna come with me and see Nikki?" Blackie said, and it was clear from his tone that he knew exactly what those words did to Mick. 

Time seemed to freeze. Mick's fingers, curled tightly around the edges of the nearest countertop, became even tighter and the edges cut into his hands. He stared at Blackie. "What do you mean?" He asked. 

"I think you know full and well what I mean, Mick Mars." Blackie replied. 

Mick's eyes narrowed, and his jaw clenched so tightly that it began to ache. He stared at Blackie, and was suddenly struck by the violently inhuman urge to run across the kitchen, punch Blackie in his stupid fucking face, and then pull him down and - ' _Stop it! Stop it!!'_ Mick took a shuddering breath. "What'd you do with him?" Mick asked in a voice that sounded too calm. 

"Me?" Blackie smiled, and then it fell away, making Blackie look oddly solemn as he stared at Mick. In some deep, unheard of sort of way, Mick felt his heart begin to pound in an uncomfortably fast manner. "I'd never hurt Nikki." He said, and his previously playful demeanor was suddenly replaced by an almost injured silence. 

"Well, I don't know you, so how was I supposed to know that?" Mick snapped. He was _not_ going to be guilt-tripped by this asshole. Mick had been guilted by Vince and Tommy enough times to know when he was being manipulated. "One day, I'm barely aware of your existence, and then you're on the couch in _my_ recording room with Nikki hanging all over you!" Mick winced. He didn't meant to start yelling, and he didn't know where everybody else was. 

"Don't worry, Mars." Blackie was back to his usual self again, all cocked hip and twisted lips. "The drummer is out partying with a couple of groupies, and the blonde is stewing over a bottle at some bar." He wiggled his eyebrows. "So we're all alone." Blackie knew what he was doing, and he was having the time of his life while doing it. 

"What the fuck are you implying?" Mick knew what was being implied, he fucking knew, and he felt the nervousness envelope his body. Mick stared into Blackie's eyes, and scowled. "Where's Nikki?" He demanded. 

"In bed." Blackie said pleasantly. 

Mick suddenly felt like ice cold water had been dumped all over his body. "In bed because of what?" He whispered. 

"Because we wanted to have a little fun...with you." Blackie smiled. 

The words sent a bolt of anxiety and anticipation throughout Mick's body, a sensation that felt both incredibly pleasant and unpleasant. He frowned, and leaned forward slightly. "What sort of fun?" Mick asked, even though he knew perfectly well what sort of answer he was going to get. 

"The sort of fun that make the ladies that my mom used to invite over clutch their pearls." Blackie said. "The sort of fun that everybody ignores because it feels like some forbidden fucking idea. The sort of fun that you and Nikki like to engage in and then pretend that you don't because you're straight and Nikki doesn't want to ruin his image." He stepped forward slowly, almost tauntingly. "The sort of fun that we're about to have and then try to pretend we didn't, except for at night, when you're alone and Nikki's with some girl and I'm on stage..." The words were whispered, and Blackie somehow managed to make it sound like he was immensely enjoying himself while talking in the same low voice with the same blank face. 

"You think of Nikki while you're on stage?" Mick said, making a face. 

Blackie grinned. "After long hours and months of touring all the time, it makes the whole time worth it." He reached out, and grabbed Mick's arm in a gentle but firm grasp. "And I'm sure you will, too." Blackie sounded so sure, so certain. 

For a flicker of a moment, Mick considered how ridiculous the whole situation was, that he was a straight man who occasionally enjoyed a little sexual rendezvous with his pretty bassist, that this was way above his pay grade, but there was a strange, entrancing sort of thing about Blackie, and Mick hated himself, he really did, just for his weakness toward men. 

There was too much of a height difference for a comfortable, easy kiss, but this wasn't like any sort of kiss that Mick had ever experienced before. Nikki was a rough but slow kisser, like he wanted to ravish every single minute. Blackie was harsh and fast, gripping Mick's shoulder, his nails digging into Mick's skin beneath the layers of clothing. 

Blackie pulled away. His eyes were shining. "You wanna come see Nik?" He asked, even though it wasn't really a question, because he knew full and well that there would be a 'yes' at the end of it. 

"Yes." Mick answered. 

In the darkness of the night, they walked through the house like two cunning thieves on their way to get the crowned, prized jewel. Mick was scared but he wanted it so bad, and Blackie was grinning like the canary who'd gotten the cream. A small part of Mick wondered what he'd find when Blackie finished leading him, but knew that it'd be amazing. 

There was an electrical undercurrent as Blackie's callused hand suddenly reached back and lightly touched the side of Mick's neck. They looked at each other, and in that moment, Mick understood why Nikki was so entranced to Blackie. He understood it, more than he'd ever understood anything else in his life.

"Nikki said that you were always up for a challenge, which is why you went for him, because he's a goddamn challenge." Blackie said quietly. "I'm always up for a challenge, too. That's why, when we were in Sister together, I went for him, and I went _hard._ He's a challenge, but he's fucking worth it." He whispered. 

"I know." Mick replied. 

Blackie took a deep breath. "I think he was so desperate to be loved by somebody, that he didn't give a fuck if the one person who did was 6'4 and thought that the best way to show somebody that they gave a fuck was to take them to bed." He shrugged. "As it turns out, Nikki fuckin' Sixx is better at emotions than I am. Who knew?" Blackie laughed. 

"Who knew." Mick repeated. 

"We had a nice little thing happening, too. Of course, Nik left, but that was just figures. Our personalities clash too much, anyways. But we still make time for each other. A little weekend here when Nikki drank a little too much and thought it was a good idea to call me, a little evening there when I pulled a muscle and he wanted to make me feel good." Blackie continued. "And then we don't see each other for a year and a half and then I decide to call him. He doesn't pick up but, instead, sends me a letter, detailing all the nice things you do to him." Blackie said casually, as if it didn't matter. 

Mick didn't want to admit the sort of feelings that those words were making him feel. He suddenly felt very hot, and he wanted to take his jacket off. "You two are peas in a fucking pod." He remarked after a long minute of silence. 

"Oh, and you aren't part of that pod? Admit it to me, Mick Mars. You're just as fucking broken as Nikki is and just as fucking bitter as I am. No shame, man, we're all friends here." Blackie tossed his head back so that Mick could see his face that thick nest of black hair. "We fit together, like three puzzles pieces that don't belong anywhere else." He said, like that explained everything. 

"What did Nik tell you about me?" Mick asked. 

Blackie smiled. "Nikki told me that you treat him good, that you're sarcastic as fuck, that you have Ankylosing Spondylitis and that it makes you feel older than you actually are so you like to feel young." He said. 

"Oddly specific." Mick said. "But I'll take it." He tried not to think about how true that all was. He didn't want to, at that moment, especially when Blackie leaned down and kissed him again. 

The idea of Nikki talking to Blackie about him made Mick feel pleasantly warm inside, and he smiled faintly as they continued walking. Their footsteps echoed as they walked, and then they reached Nikki's closed bedroom there. There was a faint light coming from underneath the door, and Blackie knocked, once and quickly. "Nik. I've lured our bait. " He grinned toothily at Mick, who only looked back, faintly amused. 

Nikki opened the door, and if somebody had looked at Mick and told him that he'd stopped breathing in that split second time span, then he would've believed that without question, because Nikki could've taken anybody's breath away at that moment, smirking like some little devil, done up like it wasn't in the triple digits outside of their little house on the sunset strip. 

"I've been waiting forever, you know." Nikki said, brushing away his hair so that he could stare at them properly with his searing eyes. He leaned against the threshold of the door, and raised his eyebrows. Nikki spread his arms, smiling faintly. "Do you like what you see, Mickey?" The nickname was said purposefully, judging by Nikki's playful little smirk, full of knowledge that he was the only person who could call Mick that. 

"No. The shirt's nice, though." Mick said, his mouth dry, his eyes slowly traveling from Nikki's chest to his leather-adorned legs and then back up to his face, partially covered by his inky black hair. 

Blackie scoffed. "See? One in the same, my man. One in the fuckin' same." He said, shaking his head rather ruefully. 

"Liar." Nikki hissed, his nose wrinkling. "This shirt is ugly as all hell." He added, plucking at the hem of his silky black shirt that was hanging off of his slender frame. 

"I think it suits you." Blackie replied. 

"You would." Nikki bit out the words, harsh, but then he smiled. "You've always had terrible taste." He said. 

"I don't think so." Mick said, stepping foward, grabbing Nikki's shirt and pulling him down into a kiss. It was much slower and gentler than Mick's last two kisses, or he'd tried to make it that way, anyways. Nikki pushed forward playfully, smiling against Mick's mouth. 

If you would've gone back in time and told Mick Mars that, in just a few years, he would be having sex with a giant and a bassist, he would've stared at you for a long time as he tried to formulate a response in his head, because even that was beyond his comprehension for rock n' roll chaos. 

But now, it was just one more nick off his bucket list that he didn't even know that he'd had. 

**Author's Note:**

> I think this is the most terrible thing I've written, and that's saying a lot.


End file.
